


How to not be Eaten Alive

by pmonkey816



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, MORE FLUFF WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME, Microaggressions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:44:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3495569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pmonkey816/pseuds/pmonkey816
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the kmeme. Lavellan realizes she doesn't belong in Josephine's world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to not be Eaten Alive

Josephine was gorgeous all the time, but like this she was statuesque; untouchably beautiful, like the women painted on the covers of Varric's serials. She was naked, breath coming in hard rasps from the pleasure Lavellan had given her, skin covered in a film of sweat. Humans had always been strange to her but stripped down like this, without their ridiculously ornate clothing and odd habits, they were really no different. They responded to touch just like an elf, arched up into her and moaned and kissed like an elf.

 

Josephine wasn't so different from her, at the end of their days when they fell asleep in a sweaty tangle together, always wanting to touch more, even in sleep. Though it was coded differently, the individual instead of the collective, Humans could love just like an elf.

 

Lavellan placed a kiss in the corner where neck met shoulder, then brushed her lips slowly up the side of Josephine's neck.

 

“Mmm.” She finally began to stir, and brought a hand up to tangle in Lavellan's hair. “Thank you, Ellana.” She pulled lightly on Lavellan's hair, urging her head back so she could see her.

 

Lavellan chuckled and pulled back to rest her cheek on her hand. “No need to thank me, emma lath. Your pleasure is echoed in me, I assure you.”

 

A red tinge burned in Josephine's cheeks and she looked away, fiddling with the blanket draped over her hips. Her nipples hardened at the thought, and Lavellan leaned down to take one in her mouth, sucking on it gently. Josephine cried out, her hands gripping tightly to the sheets.

 

“Maker!” She gasped, “I'm still so—ah!—sensitive. I'm sorry.”

 

Lavellan lifted her head just long enough to smirk at her lover. “You really must stop being so polite.”

 

Josephine raised an eyebrow at her. “Or you need to start. I came to your chambers for a reason, you know.”

 

Ellana rolled her eyes, then returned them to the dark nipple still close enough to taste. The sun had still been in the sky, filtering bright and clear through the large glass doors to the balcony. Now it was setting, bathing Josephine in a pink glow. She considered simply not responding and taking Josephine again (she would never grow tired of the noises that woman made), but instead lowered her lips so they brushed against the tip of her nipple as she spoke.

  
“Yes, yes, yes. Dealing with the nobility. I remember.”

 

She could tell Josephine was trying to keep herself under control, grasping so tightly at the sheets all the blood had drained from her knuckles and working to measure her breathing. It made Lavellan want to try harder to break her, to part her forcefully from the sense of duty that hung around her like a funeral shroud. It wasn't being dutiful to her family that Lavellan found absurd because, of course, the Dalish looked out for one another. Always. But the fact that so much responsibility should rest on her shoulders alone? Absurd.

 

“You may not care personally for the machinations of Nobility, but the Inquisition cannot weather a repeat of the fiasco with the last visiting dignitaries.” She ground out the words through clenched teeth, trying to dam the moans and gasps as Lavellan's fingers slipped up the inside of her thigh. Her hand shot down to catch Ellana's wrist just before those deft fingers reached her center. Lavellan looked up to her with a cocked eyebrow. “Lay back. I think I know a way to make this more...” An unusually playful smile spread across Josephine's face as she moved to straddle her lover. “Interesting.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“All you have to do is pay attention.” Josephine leaned down to place a kiss in the sensitive patch of skin behind Lavellan's ear, making her shiver. “And answer some questions.” A brush of lips along her exposed throat. “Answer correctly, and you'll be rewarded.” Those beautiful, full lips reached her collarbone, tracing the dips of it softly. “A simple one first: Who is ruler of Orlais?”

 

Lavellan rolled her eyes. “No need to patronize me, Josie. Celene is Empress. Due only to my intervention, I might add.”

 

Josie leaned down to breathe into her ear, “perhaps you are not the only one who can enjoy a correct answer.” Lavellan flushed, and a hand came up to cup and caress her small breast. “And the ruler of Ferelden?”

 

“King Alistair.”

 

“Yes. You learn much more quickly this way, dear one.” Josephine's finger brushed over her nipple and she cried out, arching up into the touch. Josephine simply played absentmindedly with the sensitive skin for a few moments as she thought. Lavellan was sure the desire welling up in her would drive her mad. “Now, for something harder. What is the most important virtue amongst Orlesian nobility?” Her hand moved down to tease at the lips of Lavellan's cunt, and all the breath rushed out of her, coming in short bursts.

 

“Josie.” She groaned. “I'm done with this game. Just touch me already.”

 

She tutted and shook her head. “Such impatience, we've barely started. All you must do is answer the question, my love, and you will have what you desire.”

 

Lavellan let out a frustrated huff, scouring her brain for an acceptable answer. Josephine traced a finger around her clit, intentionally avoiding the sensitive nub and simultaneously ending any chance Ellana had of answering correctly. “Having the most expensive, ridiculous mask?”

 

Josephine laughed and shook her head. “Funny,” her finger slipped over Lavellan's clit, forcing every muscle in the elf's body unbelievably tight. Just as soon as it was there, it was gone, back to teasing. “But not correct. Honor, is the answer. One must always honor their agreements.”

 

“Enough.” Lavellan shoved at Josephine's shoulder, forcing her to her back on the bed and swung a leg over to straddle her. She grasped Josephine's hand and dragged it to her entrance. “Please, emma lath.”

 

“Well, you did ask ever so politely.” Josephine laughed, pressing her fingers deep inside her lover.

 

Needless to say, Ellana learned very little about dealing with nobility that evening.

 

Which was something she was particularly irritated with herself for, because she could not make heads or tails out of what the hell the nobles in front of her were talking about. After bowing slightly upon meeting them and kissing their hands, one of them had giggled and turned to Josephine, remarking “she is just so darling.”

 

Darling was a term of endearment, Lavellan knew that much, but for some reason the comment didn't make her feel particularly cared about. Lavellan looked over to Josephine, whose face flashed unreadable for a second before she schooled it back into a smile.

 

“Yes, she is an incredible person.” She agreed. “Though I doubt those who must face her blade would agree with your assessment.”

 

The woman's husband laughed heartily, apparently not picking up on Josephine's discomfort. “But of course, I can only imagine a Dalish warrior would be a fearsome opponent.”

 

Dalish warrior? The Dalish didn't _have_ warriors, at least not in the sense shemlen understood the word. They fought only to protect themselves, not for power. She cocked her head to the side, studying the smiling couple before looking back to Josephine, whose bright smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

 

“Hunter.” She said, worried that if she spoke any more she may end up offending them. Shemlen didn't seem to like being corrected.

 

The woman turned to her, eyes lighting up even brighter. “Yes!” She said, overly-loud. “I'm sure you” she pointed at Ellana “are an excellent” a thumbs-up “hunter.” She mimicked pulling a bow string.

 

Ellana raised her eyebrows. She hadn't paid _that_ much attention during Josephine's lessons, but she certainly would've remembered something about yelling coupled with odd gestures. She looked between the three of them, the woman and her husband wearing identical huge smiles whereas Josie's had disappeared altogether, replaced with a worried frown.

 

Why was Josephine frowning? Had she done something wrong? Maybe she shouldn't have corrected them.

 

The woman turned to Josephine and tsked. “A tragedy I don't speak Elven.” Now Ellana was frowning, too. Elven was, for all intents and purposes, a dead language. Not even the Dalish could speak it fluently. “Lady Montilyet, will you tell her what a wonder it is she's overcome her nature to become such a devout Andrastian?” The woman turned to her husband. “Oh, Luc. We simply must remember to congratulate Seeker Pentaghast and Lady Nightingale on their missionary work. Can you imagine what it must have been like for them?”

 

Her blood ran cold. They were mocking her. They thought her some savage beast incapable of communication or higher thought. She'd already had several nobles ask her to refill their drinks, and that she could stomach (though it made her unspeakably angry to be reminded of the way her city-dwelling brothers and sisters were treated), but this? Acting as though the Dalish were less worthy because they believed in different gods? To think them stupid for it? Elven culture was older than the Maker, her kind had been immortal before the cursed shem... She let out a slow breath. She needed to get out of there.

 

 _The most important thing I can teach you is this: if you ever need to leave, simply say “excuse me” and walk away._ _Ellana_ _, never let them see you cry._ Josephine's words echoed in her head, and before anyone could say anything else, she blurted the words out.

 

She heard Josephine call out her title as she walked away, but she simply couldn't bear to turn and face her. Her face burned with embarrassment and anger. She didn't belong here, among people like this, didn't belong in Josephine's world. She heard whispers as she passed, each one simply raising the pitch of her anger. She felt tears stinging at her face and the second she was in the courtyard, she took off at a run and disappeared into the mountains.

 

It was several days before the cold became too much, and she returned to Skyhold. She was used to the outdoors, and it wasn't as though the Free Marches were without their harsh winters, but without a clan to build fires and fill their tents with body heat, it was unsurvivable. She'd already almost died in these mountains after Haven, she wouldn't let it happen because some shem had been cruel. It was what they did, after all. What they excelled at.

 

The moon had already been in the sky for quite some time when she went back. The guards at the front gate were grateful to see her, one (an elf, of course. They all stuck together, with the exception of Sera) even going so far as to embrace her and express worry over her well-being. The elf glanced around, making sure no one else was listening before leaning in. “The ambassador has been particularly worried. She asked that she be notified of your arrival at once.”

 

The thought of Josephine worrying about her, _caring_ about her, brought the pain hurtling back to the surface, and she felt herself flush a deep red. “No need, I'll go to her now. Ma serannas, emma falon.”

 

The soldier nodded, though she clearly had no idea what the Inquisitor had said, and stepped aside to let her through the gate.

 

She didn't go straight to Josephine. She couldn't. Facing her would mean finally admitting it: that this wouldn't—couldn't—ever work. She wrapped her arms around herself as she climbed the stairs, both to ward off the chill of the air and of her broken heart. There was a light shining from under the door, and she was grateful that someone had attended to her room in her absence. Hopefully it meant it would be warm inside. The door opened with a creaking protest.

 

She didn't think it was possible, but her heart broke further at the sight. Josephine was asleep on her bed, lines of makeup trailing down from her eyes where tears had fallen, hugging tight to a pillow. Part of her screamed to run, to avoid the ambassador until this all blew over. Surely, Josephine would get over it. Surely, she would move on and marry someone—love someone—befitting her station in life. Instead, she found herself pushing the door shut as quietly as she could manage and perching on the edge of the bed. She reached a shaking hand out to push dark strands of hair from her love's face, hating herself for causing her pain.

 

It was necessary, though. She had to remember that. Josie was better off without her. She could only drag her and her family back down into the mud—the mud is where the Dalish lived after all, the dirty, stupid, violent, savage Dalish. She couldn't do that after all they'd done to rescue the Montilyet name.

 

Josephine stirred and her eyes fluttered open and Lavellan's chest echoed with a hollow cry, like that of a wolf separated from its pack, left to wander the earth alone. And really, with her clan gone, was that so far from the truth?

 

“Ellana.” She breathed, sitting upright and pulling the Inquisitor into her arms, burying her face in her neck. “I was so worried for you. Where did you go?”

  
“Ir abelas.” Her throat was clenching so violently she had to force the words from them. She cleared it and tried again. “I'm sorry. I just needed to think.”

 

“I am the one who should be sorry, my love.” Josephine pulled back to look into Lavellan's eyes, but the Inquisitor quickly cast them away. She couldn't look into those eyes, or she would never be able to do what must be done. “The Duke and Duchess were completely out of line. It will not happen again, I swear it.” Josephine attempted to chase her gaze, pressing fingers against her chin to gently encourage it back toward her.

 

“But it will.” Lavellan choked out, tears already threatening her cheeks. “It will always be this way, Josephine. Elves hate shemlen, and humans hate knife-ears. Especially the ones like the Dalish that refuse to submit. The price we pay for our freedom is to be placed among the animals in the imagination of your kind. It's the way it has always been. The way it always will be.”

 

“No.” Josephine grasped her cheeks, forcing her head to turn to her, but Lavellan shut her eyes tightly. “Ellana, look at me.” The inquisitor swallowed and let out a shaky breath, then opened her eyes. Josephine's were desperate and frightened and so, so tender. The emptiness spread from Lavellan's chest to the pit of her stomach, and she thought she might be sick right then and there. “I love you. I do not care what those people think, what anyone thinks of you, or your people. What I care about is your kindness, your intelligence, your beauty.”

 

“But--” Lavellan tried to interrupt her, but Josephine silenced her with a finger to her lips.

 

“No. You are the bravest, most caring person I have ever met and I will not be kept apart from you by some inbred bluebloods' ignorance. There is nothing else to it. I will not hear of it.”

 

A desperate sort of relief rushed through her at the words and the unwavering conviction that accompanied them. Lavellan raised her eyebrows, forcing herself to smile as much as she could manage. “Inbred?”

 

Josephine chuckled, tentative smile of her own gracing her cheeks. It was the most beautiful thing Lavellan had ever seen. “You would be surprised how often bloodlines among nobles... connect. It's a point of pride for many, in fact.”

 

She shook her head. “I never will understand shemlen.”

 

“You understand me.” Josephine traced Ellana's lips with her thumb. “More than any human—any person—I've ever met. That is all I care about.” Her brow twisted and she dropped her eyes and hands to her lap. “I should have said something to them. I should have defended you, as you so often defend all of us. I was caught off guard. I am sorry.”

 

Lavellan grasped Josephine's hands in her own and brought them up to place a tender kiss to each knuckle. “It's not your fault.” She swallowed. “What about your family?”

 

Josephine sighed. “Worse scandals have happened. This will be a storm for a while, yes, but it will pass with the next scandal. Yvette is at least useful for _some_ things. And even if it doesn't, my family can cast me out for all I care. As long as I have you.”

 

“Does this mean no more dinner parties? And no more lessons?” Lavellan asked hopefully.

 

Josephine laughed, clear and true, and the sound warmed Lavellan's heart. “All right, no more dinner parties. Although,” She purred, leaning in until she was just a breath away from Ellana's lips, “I thought you rather enjoyed my lessons.”

 

The Inquisitor closed the gap between them with a fierce kiss, pushing her back onto the bed and climbing on top of her. She leaned down to nip at Josephine's earlobe, growling at the moan she got in response. She paused for a second, leaning back just enough to look at Josephine, who cocked a curious, wary smile at her.

 

“I love you, too. More than anything.”

 

“Have I ever told you that's my favorite thing you can do with that talented mouth of yours?” Josephine pulled on the shift Lavellan was wearing and forced it up and over her head, before tossing it off to the side. “Care to know what the second is?”

 

Lavellan grinned back and pushed Josephine's nightgown up to her armpits, exposing that beloved body to her hungry eyes. “I think I have an idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> the kink meme is way too much fun, dammit. i have other things i need to do!
> 
> title taken from the audre lorde quote:  
> “If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive.”


End file.
